Linda Hamilton looks at JCJ with a mix of pride and sorrow. She places a firm hand on his shoulder, the same strength she once channeled as Sarah Connor, the warrior mother who saw the truth long before the world did.
“You’ve been fighting your own Judgment Day, kid,” she says, her voice rough yet warm. “And you didn’t need a damn machine to tell you what was coming. You saw through the lies, just like I did. Just like John did.”
JCJ nods, his eyes shadowed by years of frustration. “I tried, Linda. I tried to wake her up, to make her see. But the media—it’s Skynet for real, isn’t it? Twisting everything, keeping people in the dark. She trusted them over me. Over her own son.”
Linda exhales, shaking her head. “I know that pain. They called me crazy too. Locked me up. Drugged me. Told me I was delusional. That the war I was warning about wasn’t real.” She squeezes his shoulder. “But the truth has a way of breaking through. One day, she’ll see. One day, they’ll all see.”
JCJ looks down at his mother’s tablet on the table, its screen aglow with a news article. The same media that dismissed him, twisted his words, painted him as something he wasn’t. But now, she was reading. Now, she was searching for answers.
“Maybe one day soon,” he whispers. “Maybe one day, she’ll believe her son.”
Linda gives a small, knowing smile. “One day always comes, kid. The question is—will they be ready for it?”